The Mysterious Adventure of a KnittedHobbit
by AngieT
Summary: Little Pippin goes on an adventure with his new friend.
1. Chapter 1

Thank you to the wonderful Marigold for such a great challenge. Obviously this story must therefore be dedicated to … His most Perfect and Royal Eminence the Devine KnittedMerry of whom this poor writer is a most humble and devoted slave.

Peregrine Took was eight when he made the decision to run away, have an adventure and seek his fortune. He packed his back pack very carefully with several pocket handkerchiefs, the importance of which Bilbo never failed to mention; his catapult for protection against giant spiders; the bread roll and apple he had manage to sneak out of second breakfast and all his saved up pocket money which included five pennies, two buttons, one shiny pebble and a conker.

He dressed carefully putting on the cloak that Bilbo had given him for his birthday. This was a very important item as it was a proper Adventuring cloak with a hood in contrasting colours like dwarves wore on Quests.

He swung his pack on his back and settled it over his shoulders. Finally he picked up the last item lying ready on his bed and then he was all set.

This last item was a production of Aunty Esmie's latest knitting marathon.

The arrival of one of Aunty Esmie's knitting parcels was an occasion some what more dreaded than anticipated by the residence of Great Smials. Pippin had once heard his mother sadly remarking, "Poor Esmie must be getting broody again" and wondered if this meant she was laying eggs and did wool come from eggs. The latest parcel had included the usual assortment of knitted caps, scarves and gloves. More unusually this parcel contained a quantity of bed socks, which although a needful item for the very old were not really quite the thing to display in public. Hobbits needing bed socks usually kept such items to them selves; made them themselves or had them sent from Bree in respectable brown paper packages, and washed them on the servant's holidays. (Eglantiener did actually have a pair herself but these were of a open weaved delicate lavender colour with little ribbons to lace them to just below the knee and were worn on very special occasions – the last one being the conception of Pippin himself.)

Pippin knew none of this but he was pleased when presented with the knitted item which had been prepared for himself. After establishing the fact that it was not another purple and orange striped jumper with a bunny rabbit embroidered on it – like last years – he was coaxed out of hiding behind the coal scuttle and warily allowed the item to be put into his hands. It was a knitted hobbit! Not only that but it was a knitted hobbit wearing brown breaches, a white shirt with a buttermilk coloured waistcoat and a forest green jacket. It had brown wool hair and blue eyes and its knitted mouth was already looking up at Pip with a mischievous and knowing twist.

"It looks like Merry!" Pippin exclaimed in delight turning the intricately detailed figure over in his hands. There were little buttons sewn on in all the right places.

"That's what Esmie says," Eglantine was reading the enclosed letter. "Oh dear, she also says Merry has caught the Brandywine Pimples and will not be able to visit for your birthday and so she knitted you a Merry instead."

Pippin momentarily forgot his delight over his knitted Merry and his face fell. "But it won't be a proper birthday with out Merry!" he protested.

"I'm sorry dear," his mother said. "But Merry is very ill. He sends you all his love though."

At this moment there was a distraction as Pearl found her parcel and was exclaiming in horror over what appeared to be a set of knitted bloomers. Uproar ensued and in the confusion Pippin slipped away, clutching knitted Merry and formed his plan to run away and visit Merry.

Clutching knitted Merry to him Pippin stole out of his room and down the corridor. Out side the door to his father's private study he paused for a moment. Bilbo had always stressed the importance of maps when going on an Adventure. On his adventure the old hobbit had a wonderful map with magic letters, and moon writing, and riddles.

"Of course we must have a map," Pippin told knitted Merry. Carefully Pippin opened the door to his fathers study and peeked round. Knitted Merry peeked round too.

The room was empty but for the live presence in the grate of the fire. Pippin stepped forwards and shut the door behind him. He was never allowed in here himself but one the occasions when he had come into the room with his father he knew there were a number of maps on the big oak desk.

Paladin's private study was a tiny room compared to his official study where he kept all his books and business papers. This room really had one function – it was Paladin's bolthole to escape his female dominated family and his wife's complaints about pipe weed smoke. In the little room the thane has one bookshelf, a flat-topped desk and a high backed comfortable chair. On one side of the fire were a coalscuttle and a poker, and on the other was a little three-legged kettle which Paladin used to brew himself a cup or two of tea. By the chair was a little table for his teapot and cups and the pipe rack which contained a dozen or so pipes.

Pippin had to climb on the chair to see over the top of the desk but once there was rewarded with a profusion of maps and papers.

"Which one?" Pip asked knitted Merry and watched carefully as to where his new friend pointed. Indeed there was a lovely coloured map spread out on the table and weighted down at the corners with a ink well, am empty tea cup, a paper weight and a tin box. Carefully Pippin removed the weights and the map rolled itself shut. Pippin gathered it up and put it in the top of his pack. As he was climbing down again clutching knitted Merry in his hand the knitted doll brushed against the tin canister.

"Of course!" exclaimed Pippin. "You are clever knitted Merry. You should always take a gift when visiting sick people. We could take real Merry some pipe weed. He was going on and on in his last letter about getting a pipe for Uncle Bilbo's birthday and about how Aunty Esme wont let him have any pipe weed."

Pippin climbed back up for a moment and secured a loose leaf of paper which he deftly folded into a paper boat. This he then turned upside down and carefully shook into what had been the sale a quantity of the leaf from the tin canister and then turned down the edges to hold it in.

"This must be very special pipe weed," Pippin confided in knitted Merry, "It smells of peppermint. Won't real Merry be pleased." Pippin made knitted Merry nod in agreement.

Pippin gained the courtyard of Great Smial with out any difficulty. He was good at being over looked when he wanted to be. He slipped out of the back way, across the orchard and gained the back lane and freedom. How exciting it was to be on an Adventure. Just him and knitted Merry.

He did not think it so exciting three hours later when he was quite lost, and he had eaten all his food. He had kept to the little lanes and hidden by the side of the road when any one had gone by. At first he had to duck for cover quite often but for the last hour he had seen no one on the road. Trees had been steadily growing up around the path and by now he was on the edge of young woodland.

Sitting down on a fallen tree trunk, and sitting knitted Merry beside him he considered where he had gone wrong. He had handkerchiefs, Adventuring cloak, weapons and money. He pulled out the map again and looked at it. He turned it about and looked at it the other way up. The trouble was, he decided, that although it was obviously a very excellent map for adventuring there was one draw back – Pippin could not yet read. He knew his numbers and could say the alphabet all the way though but that was considered quite enough learning for a hobbit lad of his age. He would not start real lessons until he was 14. Meanwhile he had a problem. He knew how to write his own name but that did not help him at all.

He must be a league out of the Shire by now – probably half way to the Mountain by now. He tried to remember the sequence of Uncle Bilbo's stories. Was Mirkwood before or after Rivendell? He hoped he had not walked as far as Mirkwood yet as he did not want to end up in the dungeons of the Elf King. Secretly he had always been rather afraid of that part of Uncle Bilbo's story. He did not think he would like being locked in a cold dark dungeon, even if he had knitted Merry for company. He shivered a little and pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. For extra comfort he pulled up the yellow hood over his head.

Knitted Merry seemed to be frowning slightly a 'come on young hobbit, pull yourself together and let's be on our way' kind of frown. Pippin put the map back in his pack and got back to his feet.

He was still skirting the edge of the woods when he came across a low hedge that marked the edge of a farmers land. There was a farmer who lived near Great Smial and always let Pippin have what ever he liked from his crop. Carrots pulled straight from the ground were the best thing, or mushrooms plucked from their logs all softly white and fragrant. Pippin would go and ask at the little nearby house where he was and could he have something to eat.

With renewed determination Pippin set off. He climbed over the low hedge with only a few snags and snarls and found himself in the farmhouse kitchen garden. His stomach rumbled as he spotted the delicate fronds of the carrot tops. Before he had thought about it he had squatted won by the row and pulled up and big fat juice carrot. Brushing the dirt off on his breached he took a big bite before he remembered his manners and offered some to knitted Merry. Knitted Merry thought it delicious and between them they ate five more carrots before distasted fell on them.

There was a furious barking noise and suddenly Pippin looked up to find a very large dog racing round the corner of the house towards him.

It was the biggest dog Pippin had ever seen. For a moment time seemed to freeze and Pippin took in every detail of his assailant from its bared teeth to its stubby tail, its one white foot in n other wise black body and its collar – studded with spikes. When time unfroze the dog had reached the kitchen garden and Pippin hand flung himself up and half way to the hedge when the awful truth struck him – he had dropped knitted Merry! With a howl of desperation Pippin turned back round, sprinted back to the carrot patch and snatched up his new friend. Fro s a moment it seemed as thought he was looking right into the wild dark eyes of the dog, and could feel its bone breath on his face before he was half running, mostly flying back to the hedge, over it and off into the woods the dog snapping at his heals and its cried echoing in his ears.

He did not stop running for sometime. In fact he only stopped running when a tree route tripped him up and he went sprawling face first into a patch of ferns where he lay gasping for breath, feeling his heart thundering in his chest and clutching knitted Merry to him.

Once the blood stopped rushing in his ears and he established that he could no longer hear the barking Pippin rolled over onto his back and tried to catch his breath. But as he did he got another dreadful fright. Leaning over him was a huge giant troll!

It was hideous! It had long matted black hair and lichen growing on its face. It's clothing was all bits and pieces of dark green and black cloth stitched together any old how. It wore a filthy long coat and worst of all its feet were bandaged up totally in black leather. As it leant closer Pippin could see all the dirt on its face, and it smelt bad. With horror Pippin now realised, he was sitting on his own catapult and could not defend himself against it.

Clutching knitted Merry protectively to his chest and closing his eyes tightly so that he would not have to see himself being eaten Pippin gave a mighty wail of fear and weariness and started to cry.

Nothing happened.

"Hello," said the giant troll softly as it knelt by Pippin. "Do not fear little one. I will not hurt you. Are you injured in some way?"

Pippin opened his eyes and hiccupped. "I don't think so."

"Shall we made sure?" came the soft voice again.

Pippin thought about this. "Aren't you going to eat me?"

The giant troll smiled. "No."

"Promise?"

"Promise," the vial creature said seriously.

"Not sit on me and squish me to jelly?"

"No, I promise not to sit on you and squish you to jelly."

Pippin sat up. "What is wrong with your feet?" he asked. "Do they hurt when you walk?"

"No I am not hurt, but I want to make sure you are not hurt."

"I'm alright," said Pippin after feeling his arms and legs. "We were just being chased by a giant dog."

"We?" the ugly giant troll looked round.

"Me and Meriadock Brandybuck." Pippin held up knitted Merry. "We're on an adventure but I never thought to capture a giant troll."

"I am very sorry to disappoint you," said the monster, "But I am not a giant troll." He seemed genuinely to regret this and Pip was starting to feel sorry for the not giant troll with the damaged feet.

"I am a man."

"Oh!" said Pippin, not sure if he quite believed what he was being told.

"My name is Estel and I am Elf friend and friend to Mr Bilbo Baggins, if you know him."

"Uncle Bilbo!" Pippin clapped his hands. "Yes – Uncle Bilbo knows everyone in the outside world. He has travelled all over Middle earth."

"And where do your journeys take you today my young friend?" Estel asked kindly.

"I am going to Brandy Hall to see Merry in Buckland by the Brandywine," Pippin reeled off.

"You are a little out of your way," Estel said.

Pippin nodded. "I expect I missed Rivendell just after I ate my apple."

"Ah," said Estel. "Then we had better feed you and set you on your way my friend."

Pippin did not know which of the two he found more reliving. "I have a map but if you would guide me and knitted Merry to Brandy Hall I can pay you. I have five pennies, two buttons, one shiny pebble and a conker."

The giant smiled. "I am honoured to be trusted with such a commission." He placed his hand to his heart and bowed his head. "And for such a privilege I would expect no payment."

Some time later the tall figure of a ranger could be seen slipping through the woodlands and quiet ways of the Shire under cover of darkness. In his arms he gently cradled the sleeping form of and exhausted and well fed Peregrine Took.

Dawn was tinting the hills when they arrived at Brandy Hall. Not wishing to frighten anyone to death Estel left his burden on the doorstep, knocked on the door and concealed himself to watch as the door was opened by a young hobbit lass wearing a mop cap and apron and carrying a coal scuttle. The girl cried out onto seeing what had fetched up on the doorstep and called back to some one behind her. As Estel watched the still sleeping little hobbit was gathered up and taken inside. Then the man slipped away as silently as he had arrived.

Pippin was curled up contentedly in the big kitchen rocking chair whilst he straightened knitted Merry's clothing and made him presentable for company.

"You are a handsome hobbit," Pippin chatted away.

The housekeeper came in about the same time as the Master and Mistress of the Hall and they all met in the doorway.

"Word must be sent by fast rider to his parents," Saradoc was saying.

"What I want to know," said Esme, "Is how by all that is good did he get here?"

"He has a map," said the housekeeper. "But it seems to be of a place called Lake town." The adults stood around looking utterly baffled.

Pippin finally noticed them and jumped down from his seat to offer hugs all round. "Hello Aunty Esme, thank you very much for knitted Merry. Hello Uncle Sara. Can I see Merry now? I have bought him some pipe weed."

Saradoc took the paper package Pip thrust up at him and opened it carefully.

"I think Merry is well enough for a visitor," said Esme, "but you must be very quiet."

"We will," promised Pippin and made knitted Merry bow to show how seriously he took being quiet.

Pippin was ushered along the many corridors of Brandy hall and finally lead into he familiar room that was his Cousin's. Merry was propped up on his pillows. He looked pale and there were smudges under his eyes but his pimples had faded now to little pink spots.

"Hello Pippin!" Merry greeted with delight. "Your parents have come to visit?"

"No," said Pippin, climbing up onto the bed to hug Merry. "Only us. Oh look!" Pippin pointed eagerly to another little knitted hobbit that sat on Merry's bedside table. It had slightly longer, darker hair, bright green eyes, a big smile and was wearing a teal jacket and scarf. "It's me!"

At the door Saradoc and Esmerelda looked at each other. "I feel that this is a mystery we may never solve," aid Esme.

Saradoc opened the paper package and sniffed the content.

"And Merry is not having that!" Esme insisted.

"I thin it will do him no harm," Saradoc smiled at his wife's indignation. "It is a strange sort of pipe weed." He laughed. "Pippin travelled all this way to bring Merry peppermint tea."

The end


	2. Chapter 2

The Tea Party  
by AngieT

A/N: The character of KnittedMerry and his adventures are the property of Llinos and it is very gracious of her to allow me to use him in these little tales.

To see the smallest member of the Took clan wandering round with a scowl on his normally permanently cheerful face was a very unusual sight in the Great Smials. It was after he had stomped through the second parlour and slammed the door in his wake that Eglantine decided to see what was wrong with her youngest.

She caught up with Pippin marching purposefully towards the library with a face like a miniature thundercloud.

"Where are you off to sweetie?" she called. 

"I'm looking for Vinca," Pippin announced. "She's having a tea party."

"That's nice of her to invite you dear."

"I wasn't invited," said Pippin and the thundercloud seemed to grow even more ominous. "I am going to stomp on her tea party and kick all of her dolls and then pull Vinca's hair, and then I will take the teapot and pour tea all over …"

"Pippin!" Eglantine was really quite shocked. Mischievous Pippin might be, but never deliberately destructive or violent. "What ever has Vinca done to deserve such a horrible thing?"

"She took KnittedMerry!"

"Aahh!"

"And she got jam on him. And then she said he was going to marry her dolly. And he is not, no way, and he does not want to play with soppy dollies. He only wants to have proper tea parties. With sausages and mushrooms. And then he wants to climb trees."

"And where is KnittedMerry now?"

"He's gone to bed with a headache," said Pippin. "And Dr Milo won't let me have any willow bark tea for him."

"I see," Eglantine reached out and took her little lad's hand. "Now don't you think it might be nice if we took care of KnittedMerry first – before you stomp on the tea party?"

Pippin considered that. "All right. But how?"

"Well, said Eglantine. "I have a special supply of willow bark tea in my little sitting room, and I also have some other very good cures for KnittedHobbits with headaches. Do you think you could fetch KnittedMerry for me and tell him that I am inviting him to my parlour? And assure him that there are no dolls in my parlour."

Pippin considered very seriously for a while and then his brow cleared a little and he nodded. "I will ask him. But I can't make any promises."

Eglantine curbed a smile. "I will go and brew the tea in case he decides he can come."

Eglantine watched her little lad trot off in the direction of his bedroom and she followed him, turning off into her own little parlour where a little fire was burning in the grate. She moved her little kettle over the flames on its hook and carefully set out the tea things on the little table by her favourite easy chair.

The little room was Eglantine's own personal sanctuary. At first it had been made for her to come and get away from it all, to read or sew in peace. Pal had suggested that she ban the children from the room altogether but she could not do that. Her children were all the world to her. So it had become a very special place to them. A place they could come to with all their little hurts and problems and lay them on her lap.

The walls had been decorated with pictures and collages. The shelves were full of pottery mugs, bits of birds' nests and toys to be mended. Pippin always took it upon himself to make sure there was always a decoration of flowers in the blue vase by the coalscuttle. Today there were branches of pussy willow and Eglantine gently stroked one of the little furry buds as she waited for the kettle to boil.

When the little kettle began to sing she poured boiling water into the pot and swirled it around. She carefully emptied it again and added two spoonfuls of tealeaves to the pot before pouring in water again. She set the pot on its little trivet on the table and sat down to await her son.

Sure enough Pippin was not long in arriving. He carried in his arms a blanket wrapped form. "The light hurts his eyes," he said as he climbed carefully up onto his mother's lap.

"Let me see," said Eglantine. Ever since Esmie had sent the KnittedHobbit to Pippin, to make up for a missed visit when Merry had been ill with a cold, the small likeness of his cousin had been Pippin's constant companion. Carefully Eglantine removed the blanket and rested the KnittedHobbit against her bosom.

Really the little figure was a work of art. The detail in the features and the clothing was beautifully worked. It seemed the more Pippin owned the doll the more lifelike it became. Eglantine could almost see the disgruntled look on the knitted face and fancied it was frowning at her. She half expected it to talk.

"I can see the problem." Indeed there was a nasty smear of jam down the yellow knitted waistcoat. Vinca had been rather careless. It would take some careful washing to get the stain out. Or maybe it would be easier just to knit a new waistcoat.

But no, that would take too long, and Pip was upset now.

Carefully Eglantine held the KnittedHobbit close as she leaned over to pour tea into three cups. To two of them she added milk and honey. Warning him to be careful she handed one cup to Pip and picked up the other sweetened one. She moved KnittedMerry around so he was sitting on her lap and carefully she offered him the cup of tea. "This will soon cure his headache," she promised, being very careful herself not to actually touch the knitted face with the liquid.

Pippin sipped his own tea. "He likes it."

"Good." Eglantine set the cup down and picked up a napkin to blot the knitted mouth and whilst she did so she carefully pushed the wool a little to one side and KnittedMerry seemed to be smiling again. "I think he feels better already."

Pippin set down his own cup and picked up his KnittedHobbit. A smile broke out over his face. "Yes, he is. Thank you Mum," and he hugged his mother. "But what about his waistcoat?"

Eglantine tapped Pippin's nose. "Now I have an idea about that. Do you remember the story about Mr Badger and his friend Ratty and Moley and how they had a boat trip on the river?"

"Yes," Pippin nodded. "What does that have to do with KnittedMerry's waistcoat?"

"Well," said Eglantine. "Do you remember what Mr Badger used to wear?"

"A dressing gown and slippers."

"And when he went out?"

"A jacket and… a waistcoat."

"Yes. When Pearl was about your age she had a Mr Badger. He is old and retired now and lives with me in this parlour. He doesn't like to go out much so mostly he wears his dressing gown and slippers. And I know where his waistcoat is. If we ask him I am sure he would let KnittedMerry have it."

"Do you think so?" Pippin's eyes lit up. "Can we ask him?"

"Hop down then," Eglantine helped Pippin slide to the floor. "He lives in my workbasket."

Pippin trotted by his mother's side to the workbasket and peeked in as she opened the lid. There were all sorts of exciting things in the wicker depths of the basket and it took a moments sorting and turning over pieces of cloth before she came across Mr Badger and his spare wardrobe. She shook out the bright yellow waistcoat. It really was in remarkably good condition. Actually the toy had not been much played with. Pearl had preferred the more adventurous figures of Ratty and Moley for her games.

Eglantine carried the waistcoat back to the armchair and knelt by it as Pippin sat KnittedMerry down.

"Will he mind if I help him on with it?" she asked,

"Not at all," replied Pip. "He likes you."

The little buttons on KnittedMerry's green jacket and the stained waistcoat were quite fiddly but eventually Eglantine managed it. Soon KnittedMerry was sitting on the armchair in his new waistcoat.

"He is a very magnificent KnittedHobbit," Eglantine said sitting back to admire.

"He is," said Pippin. "And he said I should probably not stomp Vinca as it was an accident."

"I am sure it was."

Looking at Pippin's smiling face she thought to herself, that this proved the old adage, a badger in the basket is worth two in the burrow.


End file.
